A look at the different iterations of Franks Herbert's SF classic, Dune that contrasts the strengths and weaknesses of each version.
First published in 'The Illuminata' in October 2003.
From Page To Screen To (Smaller) Screen
Dune
By Bret Funk
Arrakis. Dune. Desert Planet. Home of the spice. Center of the universe. A book of astounding depth, dimension and appeal. The inspiration for five sequels, at least five prequels, a 1984 sci-fi cinema classic, and two six-hour TV mini-series. Herbert’s characters, just about every one of them, are tragic; his commentary on the human condition is, at times, disheartening; and his vision of the far future can make a reader cringe. Why, then, have his works garnered such a loyal following, and why, in a world where most adaptations fail miserably, does each iteration of his universe receive such strong praise?
The short answer is: they don’t. At least, not from the same people. Many a heated argument and life-long enmity has begun debating the merits (and demerits) of Dune and its reworkings. Fans of the original books (or rather, book; there is as much discussion about Herbert’s later works as there is about the adaptations!) talk quite disparagingly about the screen versions, pointing out numerous faults and skipped-over plot devices. Fans of the 1984 David Lynch movie pan the Sci-Fi channel’s miniseries on numerous grounds, and fans of the mini-series point out all the liberties Lynch took in turning the book into a movie. While many readers have indulged in the prequel novels (written by Frank Herbert’s eldest son, Brian), most feel that they do not truly recapture the feel of the originals, nor would they be successful on their own; they (and Brian) prosper only on the laurels of their shared creator.
Only a few (myself included) have been able to take pleasure from each incarnation of Dune (though I must admit to never making it past book four of the original Chronicles; once three thousand years had passed and just about everyone I knew was dead, it got a little too weird…) It’s not that the mistakes and liberties don’t bother me – I roll my eyes as much as anyone when I see Lynch’s weirding module! – it’s just that there is something in the gestalt of Dune that transcends the glaring mistakes. Personally, I am drawn by the complexity of Herbert’s universe, by the scientific, historical and anthropologic detail used in its construction. I am intrigued by the directors and authors who have opted to tackle this universe, and I want to see how their vision compares to my own.
Which screen adaptation is the best, though? And can either compete with the original?
Numerous elements contributed to the success of Dune. Alone, these elements make little difference; together, they create Herbert’s universe, setting the mood and awakening readers’ imaginations. Each adaptation and all of the subsequent novels used these elements – sometimes successfully, sometimes not – in an attempt to recapture the grandeur of the first book. Below are several of the most important elements.
Imagination: In this category, the books far exceed the movies, and imagination plays a factor in just about every other element. When reading Dune, or even the subsequent works, it is left to readers to imagine the universe, to create an image of the sweeping desertscapes, giant sandworms, exotic Fremen, and the universe at large. That is one of great appeals of a book, and when a screen adaptation comes along, I am often left wanting. Whether it is due to budgetary concerns or artistic differences, the movies’ effects and the director’s choices rarely match my own. As technology progresses, this gap will narrow somewhat – for example, the worms in Sci-Fi’s dune move more realistically than the models used in Lynch’s, but Sci-Fi’s worms are obviously a CG effect, and the ability (or the money) did not exist to make them not look animated – but technology can only take movies so far. It will never reconcile a reader’s vision of a Guild Navigator with any director’s. In such a case, imagination has already painted a picture, and no one’s interpretation (with the possible exception of Frank Herbert’s) will ever be able to supercede the reader’s.
Mystery: Here, again, the books triumph, though not even the prequel books can boast much mystery. Excluding the minority introduced to Dune via either of the screen versions, the plot, along with all its twists, turns, victories and failures, was given away during the first reading. Not knowing the outcome binds readers or viewers to a work. The Crying Game and The Sixth Sense lose much of their appeal once the critical secret is known, and mystery novels become tiresome if the culprit is identified in the first five pages. Because most viewers have read the novel – in fact, it is likely that reading the novel is what attracted them to the film version – the element of mystery is gone. This detracts from the overall enjoyment, especially when a director’s vision contrasts with that of the reader.
Even the prequel novels lack mystery. Though one does not know how the plot lines will play out, the overall ending is known, since it results in the universe created by Dune. Readers know which characters live and which die; who will become a major player in the future and who will not. This is perhaps the greatest failing of prequels: they only appeal to fans of the original. Brian Herbert’s books are entertaining, but only to those already enamored with the Dune universe; and even to them, only in a secondary way. On their own, these books would have little appeal.
Sandworms and special effects: These are the meat and potatoes of Dune, and one of the elements that give each version its appeal. These hulking yet graceful beasts are both the creator and destroyer of Dune, Gods and monsters all wrapped up in one neat package. They inspire the imagination, a harmless creature grown to gigantic proportions, and, since everyone knows what a worm looks like, the reader’s vision generally matches that of the director, eliminating the Imagination disparity mentioned above.
In both screen versions of Dune, the sandworms were well handled. Criticisms are few, and the consensus is that both directors did a decent job with the materials at their disposal. Both worms aren’t quite real, but the fault for that lies in the technology; perhaps the next adaptation of Dune will boast worms so lifelike that viewers will fear the desert the way that Jaws watchers feared the ocean.
The other special effects in the movies are not as well done as the worms, but given the technology available, they are acceptable. Special effects in movies have to be considered objectively; they are not yet able to compete with pure imagination, and one cannot expect them to be perfect. Thopter models, no matter how skilled the cinematographer, will always look like models, and close-up CG effects do not have the detail necessary to fool the eye. True fans of SF know this and use their imaginations to augment the effects, creating the reality necessary to believe.
Pronunciation and Language: Perhaps my biggest frustration with the screen versions is an inability to understand what the characters are talking about. In the books, readers are given immutable words and left to their own to develop pronunciations for them. This does result in some confusion when readers try to discuss the novels, but in general, everyone can figure out what everyone else is talking about. Readers are also given detailed explanations of complex processes, like the spice cycle and history of the universe, that leave no doubt as to how and why things work the way they do.
In the screen versions, this is not always that case. Time and entertainment concerns force editors to cut out long and boring explanations, making directors gloss over major elements and viewers accept some concepts on faith or overly-simplified dialogue.
In addition, language can become a barrier in the screen versions. For continuity’s sake, one might think the majority of characters would pronounce words similarly. While it is a fact that people from different planets, or even different parts of the same planet, will pronounce words and names slightly differently, even when there is a standard language, in Lynch’s version, every character – even those from the same family or tribe – has a different pronunciation scheme and, occasionally, a different accent altogether. Perhaps this is a realistic approach, but for the sake of the uninitiated, it might have been better if Lynch had sat down with the cast and said, ‘Hey, this is what the names are supposed to sound like!’ In the end, multiple pronunciations lead to confusion; those unfamiliar with the books might think that ‘Leto’, ‘Lay-TO’, and ‘Lee-AY-toh’ are three different people.
The Sci-Fi channel rectified this to some extent. Most of the Fremen had a similar look and spoke a similar dialect, and pronunciations were standardized a bit more throughout the two series. Yet a new problem surfaced! Sometimes, the Fremens Czech accents were so thick it was hard to understand what they were saying! Realism is essential in a screen adaptation, but so is ease of understanding. To give a story like Dune appeal to viewers outside of its established fanbase, a director must make it comprehensible.
The weirding way and artistic license: This is an element poorly handled in the film versions, Lynch’s moreso than Sci-Fi’s. My personal interpretation of ‘the weirding way’ was that it was a type of martial art, a way that a small woman like Paul’s mother could subdue a much larger and experienced warrior like the Naib Stillgar. There was no magic involved, no odd technology.
In Lynch’s Dune, the weirding way became a unique, sound-related technology that gave those with a ‘weirding module’ the ability to do amazing things. This interpretation of the ‘weirding’ way is not even hinted at in the books, and its inclusion is one of the strongest criticisms against the 1984 adaptation of the book.
Sci-Fi Channel’s weirding way was closer to that spoken of in the book. (It might even be dead on with Herbert’s vision, but it doesn’t match my own imagination, so it remains a point of contention.) Characters with the ability had a heightened awareness and reflexes; they could move blindingly fast and catch an enemy off guard.
One must allow for artistic license in any adaptation, but again, the farther a director’s vision stands from a reader’s imagination, the less appeal the reader will find in the work.
Acting: The true test of any adaptation is whether the actors play their parts convincingly, a difficult feat when each viewer’s imagination has created a subtly different character. Among the screen versions, no clear winner in this area emerges, as both adaptations made some choices that appeal and some that repel.
William Hurt’s portrayal of the tragic Duke Leto was good, but it looked wooden and stale when compared to the magnificent performance of Jurgen Procknow. Alec Newman played the character of Muad’Dib excellently in the Sci-Fi Channel’s two Dune movies, accurately showcasing the character’s internal struggle, but his whiny and frustratingly annoying portrayal of the young Paul Atreides left much to be desired. Kyle McLaughlan’s performance was more even, but if anything, his character tends toward the other end of the spectrum. McLaughlan’s Paul/Muad’Dib showed little development throughout the movie; he was the Fremen’s savior from the moment the movie opened.
It is hard to choose between the supporting cast, and in the end, a viewer’s favorite will depend upon which portrayal most closely matches his vision. Personally, I preferred Lynch’s Stillgar and Dr. Kynes (by a narrow margin) to Sci-Fi’s, but I felt that Sci-Fi’s Chani and Gurney Halleck (no offense, Patrick Stewart, but P.H. Moriarity’s performance was dead on!) far better captured the essence of the characters. All in all, the Sci-Fi channel did a better job of matching actors to the characters they played.
Climax: The problem with many books, especially those in a series, is that they do not have the resolution necessary to make a good movie. In the case of Dune, that is not entirely the case. The movie ends on a strong note: Paul Muad’Dib and his Fremen have captured Dune, eliminated the Harkonnen threat, and have the Emperor of the Known Universe under their thumb. Paul has fulfilled the Fremen’s prophecy and will lead them into a new future. This moment is perhaps the highest in the series; after Dune, at least until the end of God Emperor of Dune, tragedy and bittersweet victory dominate.
But for Lynch, the ending was not strong enough, and because of it, he made perhaps his greatest mistake. He allowed Paul’s victory to correspond to a rain storm, a symbol of great victory for the Fremen, who have lived in a barren desert for centuries. But is this a victory? Ignoring that facts that there is virtually no moisture in the planet’s atmosphere and that little evidence supports the hypothesis that victory in battle can induce drastic weather changes, readers of the books know that rain is definitely not a good thing for Arrakis.
One can only wonder why Lynch would add this dramatic effect. For entertainment value? To give the story a more happy ending? More likely than not, it was to appeal to those unfamiliar with Dune. This is a mistake made by many: thinking that an adaptation will appeal to those outside of the work’s existing fanbase. In the end, this tactic usually backfires, as it did in Lynch’s Dune. Those unfamiliar with the book found the movie strange and confusing, and those who love the book thought that Lynch had modified or eliminated many of the work’s key elements. Lynch’s movie is a classic, beloved by many, but even those who love it have a hard time comparing it to Herbert’s vision.
Sci-Fi channel did a far better job mimicking Herbert’s story, though in defense of Lynch, they had nearly six hours to work with compared to his two and a half. In telling an epic tale, time plays a major factor; no two-hour movie will be able to fully delve into the minds of multiple characters or fully convey all the nuances of a several hundred page book. The freedom of time gave the Sci-Fi channel an ability to explore Herbert’s world more fully, keeping them from glossing over, or eliminating, entire subplots and conversations.
In viewing screen adaptations of classic books, the role of Imagination is too strong; the world created by a director will never be able to compete with the one made by a reader’s mind. Every difference will be a mistake, every oversight a grave error. In the end, both screen versions of Dune have aspects that appeal to fans of the books, but neither they, nor any to come, can compare to Herbert’s original.
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